


For the short time we have

by Sylvalum



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Frustration™, M/M, Memory Loss, Prince Link and Knight Zelda, Wedding Planning, slight blood and violence, so i'm not going to tag this as character death, some drinking, you guys know exactly who's dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 13:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvalum/pseuds/Sylvalum
Summary: Prince Link of Hyrule and Prince Sidon of the Zora are getting married. Zelda, tasked with planning the wedding, travels around Hyrule to hand out the invitations. And sheremembers.The laughter, the joy and hope, and the frustration, the grief and despair tearing her to pieces.





	1. Road to the Gerudo

The wedding ceremony was absolutely terrible to get in order, and Zelda had hated every day of arranging it. That was what she told people, anyway.

First, Prince Link and Prince Sidon tried to out-chivalry each other by insisting on the event being hosted by their respective Capital. Honestly, Zelda didn’t know what had possessed Link to keep that up as long as he had – Hyrule barely _had_ a Capital to begin with. So Link lost, obviously. Prince Sidon was most graciously overjoyed to get the honour of hosting-

Okay, so they were going to have their disgustingly cute and joyful wedding in Zora’s Domain. Nice.

-Now, what would they wear? What would the banquet be made up of? What kind of flowers would they need? What sort of oaths would they say, probably while crying and smiling and staring tenderly into each other’ eyes? Where and how would the horrific cultural collisions take place, and would Zelda need to move the entire (very tiny) royal guard over to Zora’s domain or would it be enough with only the Chosen Hero, namely her?

Would they need any translators present? Would they need to order the finest quality rock roast for the Gorons? How _did_ you even order rock roast? –Zelda was happy to leave that particular issue to the Zora chefs, but she had barely escaped the kitchen before Link caught up to her in the corridors, and asked if she would mind handing out the invitations? In person, face-to-face? Staring at her with huge blue eyes and pleading, “Please, for the good of Hyrule?”

“…Alright, alright,” Zelda agreed grudgingly, and pretended not to notice Link’s gleeful expression. That kid was going to play all the other diplomats like fools, just they wait for his kicked-puppy-look and then _they_ would probably hand over all their territories to him with a complementary fruit basket…

Three days later, and Zelda was sitting on her trusty steed Storm, heading for Gerudo desert. It was raining. Or, actually: the sky was being torn asunder by lightning, thunder rumbled like Calamity Ganon itself, the wind howled and yanked at her clothes and hair, and rain was pouring down like a great waterfall, the road turning into muddy soup. She was drenched, cold, tired, and _fuming_. She should’ve gone to Death Mountain first, then she’d be getting a nice tan right about now, lazing in a hot spring with a glass of Din’s Wrath.

She was _angry_. But nature doesn’t care for simple mortals, and the weather raged on.

* * *

 

_Memory 19_

The rain whipped against their backs and the wind did its best to topple them as they staggered inside of the little cave. Mipha had an arm around Zelda’s back, and Zelda limped resolutely forward even with her sprained ankle sending jolts of pain up her leg every time she moved it. Their clothes were cold and drenched, and strands of Zelda’s hair had come loose from her diadem and were hanging down in her eyes, dripping…

A storm had appeared out of nowhere on clear blue skies, and in their haste to find shelter Zelda had stumbled on the flat slippery rocks near a river. Mipha had pulled her out of the river, coughing up water and shivering uncontrollably, and then Mipha had spotted the cave. They started moving, carefully.

Now, Zelda’s satchel was soaked through. Maybe she should’ve been more worried about her ankle or getting hypothermia or something annoying like that – but when they finally sank down to sit against the wall of the cave, mercifully dry, all Zelda could think about was that she had lost her journal, and likely her entire research too. Her three years of meticulous research and planning, writing and drawing and cataloguing – all turned into a soggy, unreadable lump of wet paper.

-She bit her tongue until it stung more than her eyes did.

And then she forced herself to pry open the satchel and see the damage for herself.

“Zelda?” Mipha asked, but her voice sounded strangely far-away. “How are – how is your ankle feeling?”

Her journal was beyond saving. The papers had melted together and ink bloomed upon it like bloodstains. And her research-

“Zelda…?”

Her hands trembled. Fucking- she blinked furiously, and reached into her satchel. Pulled out her research papers, that for some reason were neatly shoved into a – a blue book-jacket…? Made of leather? _What is this-_

She let the book fall open. And her research – it was all dry. She didn’t even breathe as she fumbled to turn the pages, her own fingertips damp against the completely dry paper and _how_ -

“I – I changed the cover of your journal. It was supposed to be a – a surprise gift, but-“

Zelda, very gently, put down her research. And then she turned around and embraced Mipha, burrowing her head into Mipha’s shoulder and almost sobbing. “First m-my ankle, and then my j-journal-“ _Oh, what is this?_ Get your emotions under control.  She sniffled, and said, “Where would I be without you?”

There was a sound, like Mipha was clearing her throat or- “In Hyrule, I reckon.”

Zelda felt her lips pull into a smile and she couldn’t stop it. “Well, probably.” Mipha felt stupidly warm against her freezing skin, and she didn’t want to let go. “You’re my best friend. I’ve t-told you that, right?”

“And you’re mine,” Mipha agreed, softly.

The storm calmed, eventually, and they managed to get back to Zora’s domain, or well, close enough for some guards to spot them and rush to their assistance. Zelda caught a cold and lay ill in bed for a week, her ankle expertly wrapped up by Mipha, who visited at least once a day. Mipha’s little brother Sidon even drew Zelda a get-well card, which Zelda after some consideration tucked into her research journal for safekeeping…

(She’s still got it, but she doesn’t think Sidon would remember drawing it)

* * *

 

Chief Riju takes one look at her invitation card (masterfully designed by both Hylians and Zora, made of paper from Akkala and with actual pearls on it) and recalls, “Link… he’s that Seal-guy, isn’t he?”

Zelda, who had gladly forgotten that set of puns, says rigidly, “He’s the Prince of Hyrule.”

“Marrying the Prince of the Zora,” Buliara rumbles, reading over Riju’s shoulder.

“Yes. That’s why you’re invited to a wedding.”

Of course they’re coming. They, namely Chief Riju, Buliara, and a small entourage of guards. To be polite, and to keep up appearances and a good relationship between the Gerudo and the Hylians, and according to Riju: “Because their wedding will be fantastic. The first big party in a hundred years? _I’m in.”_

Zelda then stays for a day in Gerudo Town to _rest_ , but mostly she just roams the streets looking for anything she could give as a wedding present. In the evening, when the city is starting to cool down to a bearable temperature, the market life is the busiest. People with clothing in a rainbow of colours amble around from stall to stall, the lanterns casting dancing lights across the scene; merchants haggling with customers, a musician in the corner drawing forth a pleasant tune with a set of strings, and the occasional group of guards passing by on their way to the cantina.

The air is heavy with fragrances, with music and chatter, and the shield feels heavy on Zelda’s back. She can’t really remember – and it feels like a failure on her part, this amnesia – but she thinks, that this market must’ve been just as lively a hundred years ago. Maybe Urbosa had walked through this street, looked at goods much the same and breathed this air.

…Maybe _Zelda_ had walked this street, heard a different musician play the same song and seen these lantern lights _and she cannot remember it._

(her waterlogged journal, thrown out with the trash so long ago)

She ends up buying nothing, and thinks that she can buy something in Goron City instead. There’s plenty of time before the wedding is to take place, after all.


	2. MasterChef Hyrule

The road ends up taking her to Hebra.

It’s early afternoon when Zelda at last reaches the edge of the desert, and gratefully steps out of the scorching heat of the sun and into the shade of the mountain pass. She collects Storm from the Gerudo Canyon stable, and spends the rest of the day traversing the canyon itself. It’s the kind of annoying weather when wind whips dust into her face and her clothes, and she uses a cloth to cover her mouth Sheikah-style, squinting as to not get sand in her eyes.

The wind starts to die at nightfall, which obviously has to be the time that Zelda and Storm finally are out of the canyon. Irritated, she decides to continue across the Digdogg suspension bridge and rides on in the moonlight. She’s glad that she killed the Hinox hanging out here two months earlier, because if not she would’ve probably ridden right into it now.

Unless Storm would’ve smelt it first, which does sound more likely. Good horsie.

Zelda puts up camp right after the bridge, and goes to sleep with the Master Sword by her side. There might be Yiga around, and one can never be too careful. At least it’s a dry, quiet night…

* * *

 

 

_Memory 20_

“-but then, of course, Sir Erel started talking about pigeons. _Pigeons_. All his lessons went,” and Link paused momentarily before speaking again, with his voice pitched ridiculously:” ‘and when you adopt this stance, lunge forward and- think of yourself as a pigeon. A majestic pigeon diving from a roof, going for that tasty snack, and _yes_ , that’s the way-‘”

The guards roared with laughter, while Zelda and Urbosa shared a look. Their nonsense tolerance was about on the same level, so they frequently shared eye-rolls. (And seeing as Urbosa had known the Prince’s mother, she must have been putting up with baby-sitting Link long before Zelda was even knighted. What a champion.) Urbosa was well on her way to mastering Vah Naboris, while Zelda…

While Zelda carried her sword, looking straight ahead, never once leaving the Prince’s side unguarded. A good knight? Yes. A good person? Arguably yes. Feeling like she was missing something, always, like she needed to become better, faster, stronger- _yes_.

-Urbosa looked at her with something horrifyingly similar to motherly concern, so Zelda quickly chugged her drink, trying to tune in on the conversation. Prince Link was telling a story about fruit pies and laundry, and the guards were all listening, while in the back a couple of Rito argued. They were in the Kara Kara Bazaar, the market where the background chatter never failed to disappoint…

“So, Zelda,” Urbosa said. “Has the Prince been much trouble for you?”

“The Prince?” Zelda had to stop and consider. “He is reckless. He doesn’t know when to quit, he’s sassy and possibly crazy too – but. He’s kind and cares about his people.” _Which is more than one can say about his father…_

“Good,” Urbosa said, with a sharp smile. “It would seem my worries were misplaced.”

Zelda – would shrug, but manages to compress the feeling into a facial expression instead. She never played much with Link as a kid, so she doesn’t know enough to comment. To be able to tell how Link has changed, _what_ has changed, if it’s for better or for worse…

“He’s a good person,” Zelda said, and three seconds later Link managed to knock the pitcher over. Well. Clumsy, but still a good person.

* * *

 

The sun sets as she rides across the Tabantha Bridge, and the mountains cast giant shadows framed with orange light. A wind rattles the bridge so Zelda reaches out and pets Storm’s head – it’s not like she thinks he’s rattled by the weather, but more like… sentiment? Link always soothed his horses, and his mannerisms must’ve affected her, too. They had no horses in Zora’s domain, so it took Zelda a while to even get some riding lessons…

A wisp of her hair comes loose in the wind, and she tucks it behind her ear, thinking she’ll redo her braiding later. _Later_. She already left the stable behind her, though a night in the saddle doesn’t have any appeal either… _but_ if she rides through the night she can have warm breakfast in Rito Village.

-she could take a break, and then continue? _Yes, that’ll do._

Zelda takes her satchel, sits down at the foot of the mountain down in the soft wavy grass, and leaves Storm to graze in peace. She has what Yunobo described as ‘more apples than there’s people in Hyrule!’ in her bag, several gemstones the size of her fist, a dozen shields that wouldn’t fit there without the enchantments of the fabric, and somewhere – _somewhere_ – there should be a carefully wrapped piece of leftover blueberry pie.

Link is, strangely enough, an excellent chef. Zelda can make some edible things, but she’s not that great. Honestly, none of the champions could ever compete with Link’s cooking skills – but Mipha was the best at making desserts. Creams, puddings, cakes and quiches and… pie. Sometimes she made and wrapped pie for Zelda to eat later.

…Zelda eats, eventually. She mounts Storm again, and coaxes him into a trot. The dark makes the mountains look like looming chunks of blurry purple, but she sticks to the roads. It’s quiet and a bit chilly. She spots a swarm of Keese, but she gets lucky and they don’t spot her, flying away over a ridge instead.

She yawns.

Storm keeps walking, and Zelda counts the hours until they’ll be at the village…

* * *

 

 

_Memory 21_

They had stopped to take a break by the side of the road, spotting a windbreak with an unlit pot helpfully gleaming at them. They all had gratefully sat down in the shade – even Revali, complaining about getting his plumage dirty – and dumped their packs beside them, basking in the cool breeze and resting their weary limbs… And then, someone’s stomach growled. They clearly needed to eat, which therefore meant…

Someone had to cook.

As one, the champions all looked at Link.

“What? Is this my job now?”

“Well, unless you’d like blackened steak à la Urbosa…” Zelda let the sentence hang in the air, until Urbosa popped it like a balloon and smoothly said,  

“I’d read a recipe on baking bread _without_ five beakers of salt before throwing any darts, Zelda.”

“And _I’m_ starving,” Daruk butted in. “And you’re the only one ‘round here who can cook, Prince.”

Link did one of his best impressions of affronted royal snob, but Zelda would bet half her stash of Honey sweets that he was secretly delighted. Half of the things Prince Link did seemed to be an act if you looked closer… Sometimes Zelda wondered who the real, uncensored Link was. And sometimes, Zelda thought that she was only here to be his knight, and there were better things to do with her time, anyway.

-Link started banging around with the pot and a stack of ingredients pulled from their bags, and Zelda reasoned that trying to protect Link from dangerous kitchenware would only sabotage him further. She lounged back in the grass, breathing in the sweet scent of summer, and quickly found her view of the sky obstructed by Mipha’s smile.

( _it’s a better sight, anyway)_

“Zeldy,” she said in sing-song, and it was all Zelda could do not to smile, or blush or-

“Yes?”

“Look,” and then Mipha was pointing at the mountain, towering snowy and ominous before them. A ribbon of blue and white was curling down the top of it- and then Zelda recognised it.

“Naydra,” she said, wonder slipping unbidden into her voice. An ice spirit in the form of a massive dragon… It didn’t take long before everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at Naydra instead. It started to loop around the mountain, slender body glimmering like ice in the light, and then even the tip of its tail disappeared behind the mountain.

-And then Link immediately turned back to the food, hastily drowning the fire and ripping the pan away, smoke rising from its contents. “Don’t worry,” he quickly said, still pulling of a smug look. “The crispiness? Adds flavour. I’ve got this.”

Zelda looked to the side, and both Mipha and Urbosa looked at her.

Mipha said hesitantly, “If you don’t mind… I could make dessert?”

“That’s a great idea!” Daruk exclaimed, grinning brightly. Revali just muttered something and rolled his eyes.

Mipha flushed and said, “I’ll make a blueberry pie, if that’s okay with everyone?”


	3. That's real freaking Rito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about wedding customs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @glittergraphy? your comment got me working on this again. so, this is for you, i guess?

The first one down to greet her as she came walking across the bridge, Storm left at the stable, was Tulin. He came swooping down from above in a tumble of white feathers, and launched into a question as soon as his talons had hit the ground: “Hi Zeldy! Can we go and train at the flight range together later? Please? I’ve got so many new tricks to show you!”

“Maybe,” Zelda allows, because hey, she isn’t actually heartless. “Do you know where your father is, Tulin?”

“Oooh!” Tulin makes a sound like he’s just spotted something shiny, practically beaming at her. “Is this a big adult situation? Is this a knight thing?”

“Yes and no,” Zelda replies. “I’ve got a message for Teba.”

“Is the message a big knight-y thingie?” Tulin asks excitedly.

“It’s an invitation. To a wedding. Prince Link is getting married.”

“And dad is invited?” Tulin looks even more excited. “That’s awesome!”

“Yes, sure, but do you know where he is?”

Tulin says he should be at their home right now, and so Zelda starts climbing the stairs up to their nest. She passes Revali’s landing, and she doesn’t stop to stare at it. There’s not much to stare at, anyway, and Tulin is flying ahead of her so she better hurry… (the cocky little shit would’ve been _way_ too smug about the landing still bearing his name, after all)

 

 

* * *

_Memory 22_

Revali had made one snide comment too many, and Zelda had whipped out her bow and put an arrow at the string, and then she had let it fly. It hits the piece of log so hard that the wood flies upward and away, spinning through the air all the while, and Zelda looks at Revali, eyebrow arched. _Fight me_. _You’re not the only one here with a good aim._

Revali looks back at her just as stoically, but his expression has soured rather dramatically. Hah.

“Not bad for a _Hylian_ ,” he grudgingly admits. “Though the wood isn’t that precise a target, either.”

“You may be right,” Zelda agrees, and walks across the field to the log where they have been putting up their targets. She opens her satchel and takes out an apple, and puts it in the place of the log piece. Revali looks neither intimidated nor impressed, so out of spite Zelda jogs to stand much further away than she was standing for her previous shot. She calmly picks an arrow, and fits it against the bowstring.

Aim, draw, fire.

-The apple bounces off the log in a sudden yank, and Zelda smirks as she runs over to pick it up. Revali ambles over and Zelda plucks the apple from the ground, holding it up for him to inspect. The tip had gone through the middle of the apple perfectly.

Revali makes a huffing noise, and Zelda grins. She yanks out her arrow and takes a bite of the apple, and Revali says, “One good shot does not an archer make.”

“Is that a challenge, Master Revali?” Zelda replies.

“Best of five. I’ll show you _real_ archery.”

Many arrows later, they’re still going at it with best of thirty-five, and it’s stalemate after stalemate. They’re both unwilling to admit defeat – it’s honour, it’s pride, it’s about a childhood of everyone telling you to be better, so then you just had to be the _best_. Zelda doesn’t know what drives Revali, but Zelda herself… it’s just a purpose. It’s what she _has_ to do, to prove herself to others, to herself. It’s the euphoric rush of improving, being _better_ , mixed with the gnawing obsessive frustration of not getting anywhere.

She needs to always be improving. Just drawing the Master Sword doesn’t mean she can wield it.

Her father told her to stay at home, to not pick up a sword, silly girl, but she did it anyway. She picked up the sword and needs to prove him wrong – she was meant to do this. She was Chosen by the goddess, and _no one_ will take her destiny from her as long as she breathes…

 

* * *

“Hello Zelda.”

“Teba,” Zelda acknowledges. She holds out the invitation letter, carefully preserved in her notebook as to not wrinkle. “You’re invited to a wedding.”

He takes the letter and quirks an eyebrow at the seal. It’s the royal one, with the Zora one underneath. “The Prince is getting married?”

News like that seldom go as far north as Hebra. “He is. To Prince Sidon – or the other way around, if you meant Sidon.” They’ve got to make Link king soon, right? This is getting confusing, prince here and prince there.

Teba nods. “Did you come all the way here just to give me a letter?”

“No.” Zelda smiles. “I’ve got another one for Kaneli.”

Teba gives her a look. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have dinner with us?”

“Oh, that’d be lovely.”

-Zelda hurries to the Chief’s home to give him his invitation, and he reads it and sends her on her way. Check and check. She’s got two last invitations, both for Goron City residents. There’s no way to invite the Great Deku Tree, and the Sheikah were already informed earlier on... Two invitations left. Soon it’s time for the actual wedding to take place. And Zelda still hasn’t got a wedding present for the happy couple…

She’ll think of something, eventually. Something _good_.

…She still brings it up at dinner, when they’re all eating roasted poultry. “Is it customary to bring gifts for the newlyweds here among the Rito?”

“Oh, yes,” Saki answers. “It’s usually a small trinket, or rare herbs, or something useful.”

“Arrows are a favourite among warriors,” Teba adds. “Harth crafted me a bow for when I married Saki.”

Zelda hums. “Any ideas for… the princes?”

“They already have everything they need, don’t they?” Saki says. “So something more symbolic, something with a meaning…”

Zelda nods slowly. It’s sound reasoning. Though she wasn’t exactly planning to gift them a pot, anyway…

 

 

* * *

_Memory 23_

Zelda knew about the tradition of Zora princesses making scale mail for their future spouses, but she still pretended not to hear a word of the rumours going around. That Mipha was crafting mail for someone… There was nothing to support those rumours, so it was just talk. It didn’t mean anything. There were more important things at hand than worrying about gossip…

Down at the reservoir with Mipha, Zelda still finds herself asking, “Do the Zora have any… wedding traditions?”

Not very discreet, not very smooth. Mipha doesn’t comment on that, and just answers, “Jewellery is… an important tradition. It’s given as gifts between the couple…”

“In Hyrule we just… use a ribbon. At the ceremony itself.”

“We usually give pearls.” Mipha replies, and fiddles with her trident. They both stare out over the water, where Ruta is standing still at the middle of the reservoir, almost as if asleep.  

Zelda looks away at the mountains, and says hesitantly, “I’ve… read about a tradition of crafting mail.”

“Oh,” Mipha says.

There’s a quiet, in which there’s nothing but the sound of running water.

“In Hyrule the weddings of noblemen and royals aren’t as… grand, maybe.” Zelda swallows. She doesn’t know where this is going, if Mipha knows where this is going, if she’ll dare to look at Mipha’s face – of course she would. The knot in her stomach turns along with her head, and she glances at Mipha.

She’s staring out at the water, cheeks dusted with pink. Zelda wants to brush a finger across her jaw, see if her cheeks feel as hot as they look… Though she also wants to flee, so that might not be a good idea, either…

“Zora are more appreciative of jewels, it would seem.” Mipha says it as quiet as the soft hum of rain, and looks up at Zelda, eyes open like she’s almost startled by her presence.

Zelda just swallows, for all words are slipping through her hands, and holds Mipha’s gaze for as long as she can.


	4. A place to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Across the fields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... have nothing to say for myself. Sorry.

Zelda and Storm stumble upon a camp by the road in Central Hyrule. At first glance she almost took them for rebuilders, but no, the ruins of castle town are at least another mile to the north. The settlers were just starting with the rebuilding process when she had left, and there’s no way in Hyrule they’re already done. Nobody is _that_ fast, and the more people the harder it is to make a decision. So…

…not rebuilders, then. As she rides closer she can spot the colourful banners and flags, smell the stench of spices carried forward by the wind, and lastly she sees the people coming and going between this place and the rebuilders’ camp. Conclusion time: it appears she’s in a merchants’ camp, or a market or festival in its beginning stages.

-Zelda decides to investigate. She ties her horse next to a bunch of other horses, and Storm snorts and stomps for a bit but settles down once she gives him a carrot. Storm is good like that. She frees her bag, straps it on herself, and starts looking around the camp.

There’s a lot of food stalls already put up. They _are_ on a major road through Hyrule, so Zelda will give them that: their business could definitely have been put up in a much worse place. Still, it’s a long way to any actual settlements – but ok, fine, Zelda isn’t a merchant or traveling artist or musician, she’s a knight and her trade is knowledge.

The smells though – sweet cinnamon wafting from fresh baked apple tarts, the aroma of Gerudo-make soup, frying meat, warm bread loaves… she buys some food and walks around, munching on pastries. There’s an old lady selling clothes. Children running between the stalls. A painter selling small little paintings and… and Zelda stops and watches for a while. And then she knows.

_There it is._

She pulls out her Sheikah slate and opens up one of the oldest pictures on it, and approaches the painter. "Could you paint this? I can pay you well.”

“Yes? Oh sure, ma’am… just let me borrow this for a while…”

 

* * *

 

She slept for a hundred years.

Everyone who was there when Hyrule fell is dead – more than that, everyone who Zelda played with and bothered as a kid, everyone in the castle from the most common servant to the royal advisors – everyone she’s ever known is dead, everyone except a few Zora and Prince Link. Like, she’s come to terms with it, sure, but the feeling every time she remembers that no one _knows_ her? That she’s just a knight, she’s not _the_ knight anymore?

It feels uncomfortably close to relief, while at the same time _she fought for this_ , alright, she wants that to be recognised. (What is there to strive for when she’s already the _best_ , Calamity is dead, and so are all the champions too?)

She rides on toward Death Mountain.

 

* * *

 

Night comes upon Hyrule quick and dark, even the moon obscured by clouds. There’s not a whisper of wind, so it’s dark and silent like a tomb, and Zelda is forced to stop and make camp. She feeds Storm, dumps her bags in a pile, and thinks about starting a fire before remembering how close to Death Mountain they are and how fucking dry all the grass here is.

Zelda digs through her bag, eats a handful of nuts and some bread, and pulls out her blanket.

It’s too dark to do anything of any worth so she might as well go to bed early.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Memory 24_

The last night before Zelda would leave Zora’s Domain with Prince Link, she shared a few glasses Giggle Water and some Zora Sunsets with Mipha on the balcony, and she didn’t know who had had more but they probably shouldn’t have had this many. They began the night being a bit too quiet – Mipha gazing into the distance, Zelda’s conversation stilted. Even the Prince had seemed reluctant to leave the peace and elegance of the Domain and brave the real harsh world again.

(did that say something about Zelda, that it was always just _Mipha_ to her but with Link it was always _Prince_?)

At night Zora’s Domain glittered and glowed, the water shimmering faintly far below, the bridges stretching out and the spires reaching up into the darkness, the glowstones set into the walls and pillars barely even managing to show where the architecture ended and the night sky began. The drop from where they were standing would have easily killed her if she fell – what a dizzying thought. Maybe they shouldn’t be slumping against the railing like they were.

Mipha said suddenly, “I’ll miss you.”

“You better,” Zelda quipped back, and something in her chest twinged. Ah no. “You’ll be – be a great champion, Mipha.”

“Thanks,” Mipha said very softly, and nothing else, so Zelda looked at her and she was blushing. It wasn’t blatantly obvious, but still, her cheeks were white to begin with and Zelda hadn’t known her this long for nothing. She was so pretty it was dangerous to Zelda’s health. And _gods_ , she was so tipsy, she was past that and this was dangerous _dangerous_ so Zelda angled her body away from Mipha when she moved closer, held onto logic with her bare fingertips.

“You should go to bed.”

There was a moment before Mipha replied. “You too.”

_I’ll leave in the morning._

“Stay with me?” Zelda heard Mipha ask clear as day but stared stubbornly down at the black waters. “Dance with me? Just for a moment?”

“Sure,” Zelda heard herself say. And she _knew_ how much she’d be regretting and treasuring this later, but she thought that they’d have more time, she thought they would meet when it was all _over_ and she thought that- they would have time to make more mistakes with each other and with others and maybe, maybe this wouldn’t be real if they were sober and now it _hurt_ to think of it. (There was the bigger picture, the bigger issue with Ganon, with fate, but when that was all resolved then maybe Zelda could return-)

Mipha took her hand and Zelda slipped an arm around her waist.

There was no music, only breathing. Mipha’s head tucked next to hers.

A few steps forward, a few steps back. They swayed together and Zelda’s hand clasped in Mipha’s felt like having the Master Sword’s energy coursing through her veins. She couldn’t even tell if she was getting drunker or more sober from this but it- it sure felt like _something_ , like---

-she held Mipha, and tried not to think about the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She wakes to the light of a faint orange glow. It’s not the sun.

Her mouth tastes like sawdust and she doesn’t want to move but _someone_ has to have woken her up, because by the _gods_ it’s not even dawn yet and what is that damn light-

She listens, lying still as a statue with face pressed to her blanket, breathing shallowly. Footsteps, rustling and shuffling, the clanking of weapons and someone grunts, and _that’s_ a lot of noise how come didn’t she rouse earlier? Zelda’s hand snakes out and grabs her sword, always resting right beside her, and she holds it close and ready and waits.

When a Bokoblin peers down at her with its narrow eyes, Zelda stabs upward and blood sprays as she draws her hand back. She springs up from the mattress, silently thanking Hylia that the Bokoblins brought torches, and then she lunges for the nearest enemy. Anger and cold professionality quickly takes care of the first three, and their primitive clubs are no match for the Master Sword.

A Moblin with a bludgeon punches the breath out of her body and she staggers back, coming back with a swipe across its chest. Blood wells up and while it’s distracted by pain she kicks its leg so it stumbles, driving her sword to finish it and then-

-it’s over, the fight’s over with, and she’s dusty and agitated with blood on her hands, but it’s not enough.

Not even a proper ambush, but _gods_ , why would she want that?


	5. It's Goron time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while! but finally i updated

 

It’s hot as an oven and dry as a bone on Death Mountain, just as it always is and always will be, until the next ice age when maybe, _maybe_ there’ll be some relief to this scorching heat. It’s not like it ever rains up here either. Zelda left Storm in a stable back at the border to Akkala so he wouldn’t become roast horse meat, but the walk up to Goron City is a long and gruelling one. Even with the proper gear for it it’s a hike straight from hell…

The two letters she still has left she carries in her bag, tucked in her journal with a small Frostblade stuffed on top, for paranoia’s sake.

(her gift for the Princes she put underneath the letters)

Wind blows the dust from the road into hot red clouds, and she coughs through her helmet. Her feet are sore. She tries to keep thinking about how these are the last invitations, about the fact that there are soothing hot springs waiting in Goron City, how after this is done with it’s time for the wedding. The biggest party of the century, held in the glorious Zora’s Domain, celebrating two great kingdoms joining along with their Princes…

(little Prince Sidon all grown up and Mipha will never see it)

When the night comes the heat lessens somewhat. Zelda sets up a quick little camp without a fire and falls asleep as soon as she lies down.

 

* * *

 

So _maybe_ she’s felt better, she reasons on her second day of trekking up Death Mountain. Still doesn’t mean she isn’t functioning _now_ ; she’s carrying out quests and all. Strongest knight in Hyrule, then and always. Sure, the memories hurt. And _so what_! She loves and cherishes those memories, she’s even got a brand new nightmare about losing the memories again, losing everything that’s made her _Zelda_ , and that then she’ll never get them back. The thought of forgetting the Champions, _them_ , just traveling together and camping, fighting, talking, sparring, cooking, laughing-

She can’t stand the terrified squeeze around her lungs, her clammy palms and nausea.

-Zelda is also very bad at being afraid without getting mad.

Screaming at the sky (overcast with red clouds, Zelda waiting for it to start raining brimstone at any minute) isn’t dignified at all, so instead she starts angrily stomping her way up the last stretch of mountain. She’s soaked in sweat already, what can a little pissed off marching hurt? She’ll just reach the city faster this way.

When she then reaches Goron City she stomps over to the inn, gets a room, dumps her stuff there with a Frostblade meticulously shoved on top, and heads out to the hot springs. She changes out of her heat-resistant (hah!) armour in one of the stalls by the water, strips off boots and belt and hair ties. She leaves her undergarments on more by habit than modesty and finally, finally gets to wade out into the soothing balmy embrace of the hot springs water.

She can almost feel the tension bleed out of her muscles and into the water as she sits down and leans back, closing her eyes and relaxing into the stone.

It feels the same as it did a hundred years ago. But she can’t even find it in herself to be upset and melancholic about the nostalgia: like what the hell, Daruk would’ve _wanted_ them to remember him and _grin_. Smile at the memories, not be sad that he’s gone.

Wouldn’t Mipha, too?

…Zelda closes her eyes.

 

* * *

 

_Memory 25_

It was sunset, and the sea washed gently against the cliffs. The sky was blushing rosy and orange and red, the scraggly pine trees looked almost black in the fading light, and the gravel crunched beneath their feet and rained down the stones as they ran. Zelda was stifling giggles, Mipha was making those funny lil wheezing noises, and maybe pissing off a Lynel wasn’t the world’s best idea of some weekend entertainment, but you know. It _was_ funny.

(Zelda would leave the domain with Prince Link in just a week, so she clung to it all with her fingertips. Tried to soak it in, to have to remember for when she’d be away)

As soon as they could sit back and relax, far away enough from the Lynel’s den for it to have called quits on chasing them, Mipha immediately straightened up and chided her gently, “That wasn’t very responsible, Zelda. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

“It would’ve had to catch me first,” Zelda quipped back. Always comfortable to tease Mipha, and be teased by her. Anyone else and Zelda would’ve bristled with defensive jibes.

“And if it had?” Mipha’s eyes twinkled even when her mouth was a solemn unhappy twist.

“You’d heal me,” Zelda said, more serious than she had meant to. “Would you not?”

“Yes.” Mipha sighed.

They looked out at the sea, and at Mount Lanayru on the other side of the water. Then Zelda just looked at Mipha, still pouting. Zelda hoped Mipha wasn’t actually cross with her – she had wanted her to be amused. Happy. When Mipha caught her staring (not unsurprising; Zelda wasn’t trying to be discreet) Zelda blurted out, “Want to go swimming?”

-which was how Zelda ended up mentally screeching about… how many garments… she should take off. Mipha courteously removed her sash, laying it next to her trident and Zelda’s own weapon pile, and Zelda reasoned that, yeah, they’re just going swimming, just like they always did when they were kids. Just like every time Zelda had fallen into a lake or river with her clothes on and Mipha had dived in to fish her out…

Zelda didn’t really think about how she herself _looked_ like. What did that matter in the grand scheme of things? As long as she could swing a sword and write some notes she’d be happy. Hylians were pretty small overall, while the Zora were lean, tall and graceful. Mipha was pretty short, though. And since Zelda was taller than the average Hylian 18-year-old woman, they matched. That was enough. (though Zelda never… really thought much about it. She traced Mipha’s lips with her eyes and dreamt vividly of kissing her, holding her, curling up together— she didn’t really put much thought on them being different races. Different lifespans)

(what did that matter?)

Mipha leapt into the water. If the Zora were graceful on land then they were downright godlike underwater. But that wasn’t going to deter Zelda obviously. She huffed and threw herself into the water too. And it was cold! Which meant Zelda had become spoiled by bathwater for too long, and so she briskly attacked the ocean, with Mipha darting around her, giving her endearing looks. Letting Zelda catch up to her, swim up close… and splash water in her face.

“Zelda!” Mipha splashed right back, and then Zelda dragged them both underwater in a tangle of limbs. She’d never be afraid of drowning, not with Mipha there. When they resurfaced, Zelda’s hair was dripping into her eyes while Mipha almost glowed in the rays of the setting sun, honest-to-Hylia, and a small smile on her face. _You_ , Zelda thought giddily. Then, _oh no I’m in over my head._

 

 

* * *

 

“Zelda?”

She wakes up and she’s in a goddamn – hot spring. Why was she sleeping in a hot spring? She is feeling so incredibly moist and she’s got a crick in her neck, and by the way, “Good evening Yunobo,” Zelda says, with perhaps a bit more aggression than what’s polite. “How’d you find me?” And _why_. She stares blankly up into the sky, and even though the volcano does its best impression of being the sun it’s still obviously night-time.

“The innkeeper said you had checked in!” Yunobo says brightly. “So I knew you were in the city.”

“I see.” Zelda hoists herself to her feet. She feels like a waterlogged – something. Annoyance simmers beneath her surface but she ignores it. “I have a letter for you,” she tells Yunobo, while wringing out her hair. “Back at the inn. So you could come by in the morning… or actually-“

“I can come by _now_?”

“Sure,” Zelda says, despite that not being what she was going to say.

She stands around for a moment, letting the hot volcano winds dry her off, and then she goes to pull on clothes and strap on weapons and armour. She joins Yunobo on the walk back down to the city centre, where he quickly strikes up conversation: “So what have you been doing?”

“Traveling around. Delivering messages.” She grumbles. “Making _wedding arrangements_.”

“For who?” Then Yunobo says, “Oh! For Prince Link. Right?”

So the news got to Goron City before Zelda did…

“Yes.”

…And the wedding day draws ever closer. Yet it feels far away. The whole thing, the Princes and the wedding and Zora’s Domain, feels distant and abstract. She’s been on the road too long, but it’s like coming home – back to the saddle, back to making camps and sleeping in the grass, sword in hand. Weddings are shiny and unusual phenomena, like northern lights or seeing Dinraal. (the metaphor totally still holds up even though she’s ‘that madwoman’ who shoots at ancient spirits)

They get to the inn, and Zelda hands over the pearl-embellished invitation to Yunobo, whose wide-eyed reaction goes like this: “This is – is that the royal seal? What is – oh. _Oh_! Oh goodness! No wait, _I’m_ invited? I’m invited to their wedding? Is it really- whoa.”

“Cheers,” Zelda says. Then Yunobo bids her goodnight and skips excitedly away, and Zelda closes the door to her inn room and goes to press her forehead against a Frostblade for a minute. Only Bludo’s invitation left. Then it’ll be over, and she’ll return to Zora’s Domain for the wedding. And then…

She blearily blinks down at the floor.

Then what? Prince Link ought to have his coronation, _finally_ , and then he’ll be King of Hyrule and a bunch of other titles as well, and Zelda will continue to be his Knight and head of the guards, probably. Going on quests. Defeating Lynels and accompanying Link on his trips and playing ambassador between Hyrule and the Gerudo. She’s the best warrior in all the land. They defeated Calamity, so… maybe she wouldn’t have to do anything? …But what’s even left of her research? There’s nothing for her to do except fight …Yeah. She’ll just be Link’s knight.

A certain future. She feels – she wasn’t this confident 100 years ago. Now that she remembers and can compare, she realises she’s been acting with an ease she didn’t have then, resolved and certain. The worst already fucking happened, what more could go wrong? She got her quest back on the plateau and then she _did_ it, followed the instructions, made it. She got her second chance to fix it all when she should’ve died, she got what Mipha and Urbosa and Daruk and Revali didn’t.

If they were here…

Anger bubbles up again and Zelda shoots up from the floor, paces around her room, hands shaking when she drags them through her hair. _They’re not_. They’re all so very dead so very long ago and they’ve faded into myths and stories and landmarks but this gaping chasm in Zelda’s chest only grows with every blasted memory gained, and what if it’ll never stop? What if she’s going to be cursed with flashbacks for the rest of her life? Or worse, what if she’ll never remember it all and she won’t even _know_ , because you can’t ever know if you’re missing a memory-

She’s not angry, she then realises with horror. She just misses them so much it hurts.

Most of all, she misses Mipha. Just having anyone who’d know all her secrets and who’d sit up all night with her playing chess and trying to spot Naydra just. Mipha. Her empathy and kindness and how she’d always chide Zelda even as she healed her wounds, her thoughtfulness, her blueberry pies and tiny smiles, steady presence at Zelda’s side with her trident, and eyes and soft voice-

Zelda can _see_ how she’s just driving herself mad with this reminiscing business but _she is tired_ , she’s alone in her inn room, it’s the middle of the goddamn night, let a girl indulge and just lose it.

 

* * *

 

In the morning she ignores the state of her room, chugs an elixir against burning to death and goes to knock on Bludo’s door. That’s not what happens though, because Bludo is standing outside the house and grumbling about the weather. She hands him his invitation, which utterly fails to impress him, and he says he’ll _maybe_ attend. His joints ache and so on, but a ‘ _maybe’_ is good enough for Zelda.

She can leave town.

Zelda returns to the inn, collects her stuff, chugs some more elixir along with a gently crushed bit of steak, and goes up to the counter to give the clerk a small pile of rupees. “Sorry about your pillows.” She didn’t do anything other than destroy the pillows – the guilt kicked in fast enough. She feels kinda bad even now.

The innkeeper gives her a baffled look and Zelda decides that it’s time to say farewell.

 

* * *

 

_Memory 26_

They had rendezvoused at the foot of Mount Lanayru. Since the Prince was now 17 he would climb the mountain and pray at the spring, with Zelda as always following close behind. At the moment Link kept cracking jokes to the rest of the champions, who would stay behind and wait, and Zelda stood back and absently wondered what he was most afraid of: letting everyone down, or potentially gaining his gift and having to face Ganon with it.

The thing was that Link has prayed and trained and studied even _more_ than Zelda, who had practically been practicing with swords every day since she was 13. They were as prepared as they could be – but _how_ did you prepare to fight a myth? A calamity? Anything could happen, and it could happen at any moment.

…Which might’ve been why Link seemed to be telling everyone goodbye. Zelda felt an anxious sort of shudder go through her body, and went to join him. Daruk gave them both hearty pats on the back, swapped some jokes with Link while Zelda quietly bid Urbosa farewell.

“We will see you in just a day,” Urbosa remarked, an amused curl to her lips.

“I certainly hope so,” Zelda answered dryly. Urbosa ruffled her hair and Zelda swatted at her arm.

Revali was obviously a delight to talk to, just as usual, but he wished them luck on their ‘ _perilous quest_ , bird-snort’ so it wasn’t as cold as Zelda had expected. Then he went on to harass the Prince about something, and Zelda turned to Mipha. She was toying with one of her bracelets, a nervous little motion, and Zelda quickly erased all traces of anxiety from her own face. Maybe Mipha noticed anyway. (maybe she didn’t, but the air was thick with tension already)

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Zelda began. _But I’ll miss you in between._

“Take care of Link.” Mipha smiled, sweet and small and private. “And of yourself. It’ll be cold up there.”

Her heart felt like thunderclaps in her chest. Zelda knew what she would do before she did it, even if it was impulsively, and yet she couldn’t have stopped it no matter what. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss to Mipha’s white cheek, murmured, “Goodbye.” Pulled away only to freeze at Mipha’s hand wrapped tight around her wrist, and then _Mipha_ pressed a kiss to Zelda’s lips.

 _I’ll see you tomorrow,_ Zelda thought fervently. _And all the days after._

She’d fistfight a whole army if that was what she needed to make it happen.

They separated. “Goodbye,” Mipha said softly. And Zelda rushed to follow Link, and they started to climb up the mountain, and the champions waved at them from back down there. Urbosa, Daruk. _Mipha_. Zelda had to stop herself from reaching out to touch her own lips.

Just climb.

Tomorrow she’d see her again.

 

 

* * *

 

It’d take a day or several to reach Zora’s Domain, but she might as well take her time and enjoy the quiet while it lasts. First she’ll have to go to Akkala and get Storm, anyway, but after that it’s a short ride down to the wetlands. The wetlands are one of her favourite places in Hyrule: close to Zora’s Domain, not too hot, not too cold, and lots of wildlife and flora around…

Then, Zora’s Domain and the wedding.

-Good goddess, what is she going to _wear_?

 


	6. The rest of our lives

 

She runs into Beedle the merchant and his enormous backpack while getting her horse settled in at the Wetlands stable. “Heading to Zora’s Domain?” he asks, obnoxiously cheerful. “I’m going that way too!”

“Who isn’t?” Zelda says underneath her breath. Then, louder, “See you later then, Beedle.”

Indeed, Zelda isn’t the only traveller heading for Zora’s Domain. She stops to talk with a few Sheikah – seems like most of the tribe are coming to the wedding. She spots a few Hylian merchants making camp beside the road, too, and when night falls and she lies down to sleep in a natural alcove in the side of the mountain, she can see fires burning all along the river. This really might _be_ the biggest party in a hundred years, Zelda realises. Wooho.

Next day she finds a Gerudo guard giving advice to two Zora guards by the bridge, and a merchant from _Lurelin village_. He’s sure got some grit.

The bridge to the city itself is in the process of being decorated, Zora and Hylians alike hanging long garlands of white flowers from the lampposts. Zelda can’t help but look at everything with the scrutinising gaze of someone who picked out at least half of those flowers, but everything looks alright at first glance. Thankfully the Prince isn’t allergic to anything (Zelda recalls another tiny memory here: her trying to get the Prince to eat a slug and him actually doing it) and Zora aren’t that prone to being allergic anyway…

Soon enough people start to recognise Zelda as she walks, so when she reaches the plaza with Mipha’s statue a Zora kid shouts, “Zelda is here!” and then Prince Link comes rushing out of a tailor’s boutique, wearing only half an outfit.

“ _Zelda_!” he exclaims.

“ _Put on some pants!_ ” Zelda exclaims right back.

Prince Sidon then rushes out after Link, holding a pair of pants – and. Yeah okay, those two deserve each other. This is almost as bad as that time Zelda walked in on Link and Sidon dramatically serenading each other with absolutely terrible innuendos. At least Link gets to be whoever he wants to be with Sidon, even if it’s so sweet it makes Zelda’s heart ache. An old, bitter fool, that’s what she is…

 

* * *

 

That night, Prince Sidon set up a table on one of the many balconies by the palace, and then he asked Prince Link and Zelda to dinner. So, that’s why Zelda sits up here now, looking down on the city. Glittering in the dark. The water far below is as black as the sky, but the Domain shimmers and shines, a beautiful pearl among the mountains. Just like it’s always been. Just like a hundred years ago, on another balcony…

“So!” Prince Sidon says, sitting down and placing a bottle on the table with a satisfying thunk. “How was your journey?”

“Long.” Zelda shrugs. “Good to see how the rebuilding was coming along, though.”

“Any Yiga?” Link asks seriously.

“No. I think they’re starting to run out of assassins.”

Link grins. Zelda grins too. The Yiga – pain in the ass, they were. Dangerous, unpredictable, and many… an annoyance even a hundred years ago. If their ranks are truly finally drying up then _good fucking riddance,_ rest in pieces.

-Then they talk some politics, except they all hate it and quickly start talking about the wedding preparations instead. Then Zelda tells a story about Link involving lizards, a castle maid and a dozen flour sacks, which Sidon finds very amusing an which Link says he absolutely hates. They eat. They laugh. It’s just the three of them, no champions, no anything but – Zelda feels content. Or at least she _wants_ to be content with this, happy with the Princes being happy, just be _happy_ -

It’s easier here, at least. Here where she can say, “Do you remember that pie shop down by the chapel…” and then someone, _Link_ , will answer and say “Duh, remember how the baker’s husband always gave us free cookies?”

Link. The Prince, he seems to have adapted almost seamlessly to this brave new century. So why the hell is Zelda lagging behind? This is ridiculous. She wants to laugh or maybe slap herself. _You’re the chosen knight, dumbass, so show it. Time can’t beat you. Grief can’t beat you. SO LIVE._

 

* * *

 

Next day Zelda wakes up at dawn and goes to buy herself some clothes. She’ll be wearing her champion’s tunic to the wedding, but she wants a pair of clean pants that aren’t full of patches. As she stalks through the city she finds herself pleasantly surprised. The decorations in the city are coming along nicely, with a bunch of market stands popping up as well, but she isn’t complaining as long as she can buy salted nuts from them.

She walks past the statue of Mipha. It’s just a statue, but it’s also very well-made and recognisable, and long story short Zelda just doesn’t want to waste time looking at a carved piece of stone when she’s got business. Sweet bitter nostalgia…

The tailor has been sewing clothes for Hylians ever since Link and Zelda first got here, weeks ago, so he’s well-accustomed to pants by now. Though there’s not really an abundance of tailors in Zora’s Domain. Still, Zelda hopes this guy can spare some time to make her a pair of pants.

She wastes several hours at the tailor’s. When she leaves she’s got a pair of pristine white pants and a nice little embroidered cape, though she can’t remember how she was convinced to take the cape too. She can use those royal guard’s boots for shoes; they’re nice and clean and traditional. See, already done with this. Now she can start harassing the chefs for real.

Not that she will. Goddess knows she can’t cook gourmet worth a damn.

The statue is, of course, still there when she goes outside. She can look alright? She’s letting the past go. She’s trying to be as good as Link. She’ll overcome, she’ll be stronger, she’ll-

And still it hurts. A little pang in her chest, the bitter regret she swallows back.

…There wasn’t ever really a shock stage for her. Some old Sheikah people used to say that there are _stages_ to grief but – Zelda isn’t buying it. It’s one long stretch of hurt, with occasional bursts of anger or determination. A background buzz of hurt as long as you’re moving, doing things. When you slow down… it catches up! A beast Zelda can’t fight with her sword or bow.

She would’ve _loved_ to fight it.

The statue. Zelda looks at the statue, thinks back to the old Sheikah lady and her stages of grief – _acceptance_. Thinking about those always makes Zelda pissed. At least ‘acceptance’ doesn’t mean that you’re cured or some other magical thing – like, Zelda isn’t going to ever forget Mipha and the others if she has a say in it. And that means she’ll always be missing them! She can’t make that go away!

She doesn’t want to. If the alternative is not remembering them at all then it isn’t even a choice, obviously Zelda will live with the pain as long as she’ll get to keep the memories too.

So, she’s mad. _But_ she’s got her memories. _And_ she’s got shit to do, _and_ a wedding to look forward to, so Zelda stares firmly up at statue Mipha’s magnificently carved face and _smiles_ at it. They had a beautiful run, didn’t they?

Yeah they did.

 

* * *

 

It’s the last night before the wedding day, and the day after that Link will be made King of Hyrule. The single heir to this enormous kingdom, this staggering responsibility. The knowledge that he will have Sidon by his side is the only thing that gives Zelda peace at night. She’s not exactly worried – but she likes the thought of Link having someone there to catch him if he falls who _isn’t_ Zelda. Getting into the mindset that the whole of Hyrule depends on you and your faulty memory isn’t the easiest hole to dig yourself out of, and she doesn’t want to have it be true. She did it. They beat Calamity. It’s over; whatever may happen, Link and Sidon should be able to handle it on their own.

It’s the last night before the wedding day, and Zelda sits in her room, churning in her thoughts. A crisp new notebook in her hands. A diary, blank pages. She plans to just stay inside and then go to bed, turning her book over and over in her hands, but then someone knocks on her door. When Zelda opens it, it’s the Prince. “Hi Zelda,” he says. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Come on in.”

He’s carrying a bottle and two glasses. He sits down on the floor, looks at Zelda’s empty notebook, and says, curiously, “You’re starting something new?”

“Yes. Maybe. You…” Zelda sits down next to Link. He hands her a glass. “So you’re planning to hang out with me. Don’t you have a bachelor party or…”

“You’re the closest thing I have to family, Zel.” Link isn’t even looking at her as he says it, but his voice is dead serious. “Of course I’m spending it with you. Sidon is out with some of his Zora friends, but I’d rather…”

“Really?”

Link looks at her. He raises an eyebrow, smirking, and Zelda’s exhale turns to a dry laugh. A hundred years seem to stretch between them – all this time. All that time. They were there at the beginning and they were here at the end. So maybe Zelda really truly gets it, or maybe Prince Link really truly gets her too. _Of course_ they’d go to each other if they wanted to reminisce and tell stories to drink to, what better choice is there?

It’s the last night before the wedding day, and Zelda shares a bottle with Link as they tell each other stories of the past. So many things happened – and yeah, fuck, all the champions died and Hyrule was nearly destroyed – but the memories before that? Their whole lives before Calamity? There was a lot of good, too. Beautiful, brilliant moments – some excellent stories to share at parties…

 

* * *

 

Link can’t sit still. It’s driving everybody in the vicinity crazy.

Mostly the maid who’s trying to help him put on his clothes (there’s a cloak involved) because Link keeps pacing and gesturing and almost vibrating with excited energy. “Take it easy,” Zelda tells Link. “You’re marrying the love of your life. And it’s going to happen in just an hour, and after that you’ll spend the rest of your life with him, so _be patient_ and let the poor woman fasten your cloak.”

They get his outfit fixed. It’s relatively simple – white shirt, pants, boots – so it’s just the ridiculously long one-shoulder cloak that’s annoying, because Link keeps stepping on it… And then there’s his crown, of course. His clothes already have a stupid number of diamonds and pearls on them because _Zora_ , so the crown is the only actual jewellery…

Link’s tied his hair back into a braid. Link’s done with the outfit. Zelda puts the crown on his head (tomorrow it’ll be the _real_ one) and takes a step back, and together with the maids she just looks at him. She feels strangely proud.

She’s always been kinda proud of him, deep down. His father was cold and judgemental, but Link? Always joking, flirting, charming, _doing his best_. Always cheering people up, either because of his _cheeriness_ or because his weird antics are amusing as hell.

…You know what?

“I’m proud of you, Link.”

He turns away and makes a move as if to scratch the back of his head, but remembering the braid he just makes a weird gesture instead. He clears his throat. “Thanks Zel.”

Zelda smirks.

 

* * *

 

It looks and sounds like half the kingdom’s here today.

There’s people looking down from the balconies and the bridges. There’s a giant crowd on the square. The only really empty place is the walk up to the goddess statue. Zelda and Prince Link are currently standing at the other end of it, while Prince Sidon, clad in a white sash, stands beside the statue with a Zora elder. He smiles at Link, and Zelda swears she can feel butterflies in her own stomach.

It’s happening.

Zelda pats Link on the back, and then he walks down the aisle to the sound of applause and swelling music.

Zelda slips away, swerving around the mass of people, to take her place at the front of crowd.

Link and Sidon stand in front of the goddess statue, facing each other. Zelda can’t see Link’s face but Sidon’s expression is really something else, love and gratitude and awe and a bunch of other nameless things all on display for the whole world to see.

_They’ll be good together._

The Zora elder starts reciting. Link says his vows, then Sidon says his.

Then the Zora elder brings out a long ribbon laden with pearls, and Link and Sidon take each other’s hand.

The whole plaza seems to hold their breaths, including Zelda. More than a hundred years. So many chances Zelda has wasted. And here’s Link – brave, reckless Link, who’s _never_ wasted a chance. Zelda feels so proud, and so lonely, and so _happy_ , and that happiness is such a shock it erases all other emotions.

The Zora elder ties their hands together with the ribbon. Then Sidon leans down and Link stands on his toes and everybody cheers as they kiss. It’s their moment. The people are throwing – flower petals? – and the music’s started up again, and Link and Sidon are kissing like it’s both the last time ever, and like it’s the first time in forever.

-Then Link breaks the kiss, and shouts, “So let the party begin!”

 

* * *

 

Zelda insisted on getting the speeches out of the way before people got drunk, so here she is. Standing in the palace, clearing her throat in front of hundreds of people, and thinking back to what she wrote in her journal last night.

“Citizens of Hyrule!” She begins. “My name is Zelda, and I thank you all for attending, coming from all corners of this great kingdom, from Hebra in the north to Gerudo in the south. Today… I think we’ve all been waiting for this day for a long time.” _She_ sure has. “A union between the Zora and us Hylians – but today’s not for politics! That’s not what we want, that’s not why we’re here. We’ve been waiting to _celebrate_. And today is about _love_. I love Prince Link like a little brother. When we met I never expected to come to care so much about the Prince – but he was funny.”

Not like that even _begins_ to cover it, but sassy weirdo doesn’t sound as nice. And it’s all true what she’s saying, anyway. “And he was kind, and he was endlessly brave. This kingdom would’ve fallen to ruin without him! He was a great prince a 100 years ago, a hero in all the years in between, and tomorrow he will be a great king. But _today_? Today we celebrate him marrying Prince Sidon of the Zora, and there’s honestly no greater compliments I can give than saying that _they_ _deserve each other_. Thank you.”

There’s applause, and Zelda bows and goes to take her seat. Link and Sidon both sit at the head of the table, and Zelda sits closest to Link. On Sidon’s side sits a Zora noble girl with peach scales who Zelda knows to be one of his friends, and that seating arrangement’s because King Dorephan is sitting on the throne as usual.

Sidon’s friend gets up, and that’s when Zelda realises she’ll be making a speech too.

“Hello everybody!” is her opening. “I’m Forell and I… I’m standing here because Sidon’s older sister, Princess Mipha, can’t. _And_ I’m standing her because Sidon is my best friend! He’s noble like you wouldn’t believe, he’s sweet, he’s…”

-and it’s so unfair, that Mipha never got to see Sidon grow up. It is.

King Dorephan doesn’t really hold a speech – he says a few words. Link and Sidon do too, though theirs are mostly about how happy they are. _Thanks for coming!_

Then Riju, dressed in something long and dark and flowery and seated next to Zelda, taps her glass with a spoon and clears her throat. “Now then,” she exclaims. “A toast for the happy couple! Let’s fucking party!”

Zelda scrambles for her glass, clinking it together with Riju’s.

There’s no fireworks and no dragons and no enemies, no disasters, nothing out of the ordinary – so Zelda can drink a bit if she wants too. And after Riju challenges her then duh, obviously, it’s a _dare_.

 

* * *

 

At some point a few Sheikah started taking turns singing songs about love and victory and happy endings, which was Zelda’s cue to get up and do something.

So Zelda goes to hand over her wedding gift to Link and Sidon.

It’s a painting that she paid a traveling painter to make. It’s of a picture from the Sheikah slate. Mipha, Link and Zelda, posing together on the bridge to Zora’s Domain.

“Thank you,” Sidon says, softly. Touching the picture carefully with his free hand. And then he turns to deal with the thousands of other gifts they’re getting, handing the little painting to Link. Link looks down at it, and then he stares right at Zelda and smiles.

 

* * *

 

“I miss Mipha.”

Riju pats her shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

There’s nowhere to begin to talk – maybe she’ll begin in the middle. Maybe she won’t. “I loved her.” Zelda looks down at her glass and then up at the sunset. “She’s – she was so thoughtful? Sweet. She was so sweet. She’d heal injured birds if she found ‘em.  She’d heal injured _fishies_.”

She was so graceful. Always, she was polite and she moved with such an ease – but sometimes Zelda got to see her being sloppy and playful and _goddess_ , what can she say? Mipha was kind and perceptive. She always knew when someone was feeling not so great and tried to raise their spirits. She kept a jar of cookies with the rest of her medicine and healing supplies, to give to kids. Once she decapitated a Lynel for Zelda and then yelled at her for ten minutes about her being reckless.

…Except of course she didn’t actually _yell_ , because Mipha was soft like that.

Zelda runs out of words and- and yeah-

“I miss my mom,” Riju says quietly, and that’s so infinitely sad that Zelda says _c’mere_ and then she’s hugging Riju like she’s the tiny Gerudo lil sis Zelda never had.

She strokes Riju’s head a little clumsily and Riju hiccups. “Thanks.”

And what do you know, maybe talking _does_ help after all. Zelda releases Riju and says, “ _I_ should be thanking _you_. Thanks.”

The next generation will do amazing things. Zelda feels it in her bones.

“Hah!” Riju takes a pastry. If Zelda looks to the left she can see Link and Sidon dancing together, hands still tied together according to Hylian tradition. Next to them, Teba and Saki are doing their best impression of a Hylian waltz. If she wills herself to focus past their bizarreness, she can see Yunobo entertaining Tulin and a few Zora children by juggling. It’s crowded. There’s white flowers scattered absolutely everywhere. But there’s drinks and food and music, and there’s nothing that can interrupt them. Nothing can destroy this.

The Yiga clan are on their last gasping breaths, Calamity Ganon is gone, and Zelda’s task is finished.

She’s tipsy and at her best friend’s wedding and it’s a perfect summer night.

Tomorrow Hyrule will finally have its king.

A breeze tugs gently on Zelda’s hair, a strand coming loose and brushing over her forehead. Like a kiss. And out of the corner of her eye she thinks she sees a flash of blue light. She smiles, and mouths _goodbye_.

Tomorrow Zelda will begin the rest of her life.

And it feels great.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's finally over!! god, this fic took so much more time than I expected but it only made me love Zelda more, so that's a plus.
> 
> thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super excited and very nervous about this. oh gosh.  
> Please comment?


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